


the inherent eroticism of a shared cigarette

by beebuzz



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Akaashi please stop fretting, Choking, Cliche use of sun metaphors, Drinking, Edging, Explicit Sexual Content, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, One-Sided Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Oral Sex, Post-Time Skip, Smoking, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 09:55:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28651617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beebuzz/pseuds/beebuzz
Summary: It’s exhausting. Frustrating. He wants to feel without thinking for once. Be without questioning why- why he’s standing like that- why he’s talking like that- why he’s breathing like that- why he always has to be so- like that-He’s so tired of thinking. Feel now, think later. But what is he feeling?Feeling like this is going to be complicated. Feeling like most of him wants something complicated. To be a different kind of tired. Not so listless. More satiated.In the end- in the last of the dragging seconds that should be barely enough time to blink- Akaashi doesn’t move.He gives in.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Miya Osamu
Comments: 15
Kudos: 169





	the inherent eroticism of a shared cigarette

**Author's Note:**

> i dedicate this fic to osamu's kind heart, soft belly, and thick thighs

Akaashi had found himself drawn into orbit around the sun while surrounded by cheering and the harsh smack of a palm against a ball. Following his last year of junior high, he was pulled with unavoidable force toward it. So bright, so dazzling; Bokuto filled his vision to the very brim, aglow with wonder and reverence.

Somewhere along the way from teammate to acquaintance to friend, Akaashi’s admiration grew alongside hot, yearning flares that latched onto each of his ribs. They scorched his insides. Made him itch and squirm. But the heat was nice. He felt alive. So, he never found the time or will to stop it. Instead, he believed he would forever revolve around Bokuto’s beckoning light.

It was a somber day when he watched from around the corner of the gym as Bokuto stumbled his way through a half-thought out confession to a girl that could only smile and nod before gently turning him down. Just the first of many heartbreaks Akaashi would fall witness to. Though the summer air was heavy in its own stifling way, and his practice jersey was clinging to his skin like feeble armor; for the first time in too long, Akaashi shivered. He had no choice but to realize then- eventually- he would have to blink. To turn away. To shield his eyes and slip into the cold expanse of space lest he be blinded and burned.

Even at twenty-two, he still isn’t ready. He had wanted to keep turning, circling, being warmed- but he knows his sun has a habit of drawing others in just as easily as he had Akaashi. After all, Bokuto was never his alone to keep. Never would be.

Despite knowing that full well; he isn’t prepared for the chill that spreads over his skin the moment he sees Bokuto enter the bar with a bobcut of brown tucked under his arm.

He knows Bokuto goes on dates- he’s been told about plenty of them without his consent. Akaashi assumes he’s had at least one or two girlfriends over the years, but never before tonight has he been introduced to one. Forced to look them in the eyes and smile and offer a polite “ _Nice to meet you, Himeko-san”._

He’d lasted a half hour at the table with Bokuto and his teammates and _her_ before he picked up his empty pint glass and excused himself to the bar for another.

Hand over top of the glass, Akaashi tilts it back and doesn't stop until the last bit of foam is down his throat. After the glass hits the bar again, he wipes away what dripped on his chin with a huffed, “I hate beer.”

“Yeah, sure looks like it.”

He brushes off Konoha’s comment while waving down the bartender. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“I couldn’t make it to the game ‘cause of work, but Bo wanted me to come here anyway. I haven’t seen him in a while, after all. Either of you really.”

Soon enough, there is another beer in Akaashi’s hand. One that is half empty and bubbling away in his stomach in a matter of seconds.

“He’s grown up a lot since high school, hasn’t he?” Akaashi doesn’t answer. Just hides his sneer behind the rim of his glass. “He seems more mellow. At least, in comparison to how he was.” Konoha shifts to glance behind them. “Or maybe he’s just found a new team that knows how to take care of him. Seems like he really loves it.” When he turns back, Akaashi can feel his glance lingering on his profile. “And now, I guess, he’s even got a girl that can handle him too.”

_He doesn’t need you anymore._

Akaashi hums around another swallow if only to get those eyes off him. “Yes, he seems very happy, doesn’t he?”

“How’s work?” It isn’t a change in conversation. Akaashi knows him too well to assume that. It’s just another nail, like every word before, tapped lightly into the same crack to wedge it open bit by bit. “You’re looking a little tired.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“So, work’s good?” Leaning into his shoulder, Konoha gives him the chance to swallow down the rest of the drink before dropping his voice. “Then there’s gotta be another reason for you to be sucking down more beers than I’ve ever seen you even glance at. Since when do you drink like this-?”

“I didn’t know you were so interested to hear about how much or how little I care to drink.” The sharpness coupled with the clank of glass against wood is enough to have Konoha leaning away. “Next time you join us I’ll have an entire essay prepared for your leisurely reading.”

Konoha, and probably the majority of his friends from high school, know that Akaashi has been hopelessly captivated by Bokuto since the moment they met.

And Akaashi _knows_ that Konoha knows that.

He is fully aware that they both silently agreed he should be over this by now.

But chugging beer after beer in order to avoid being forced to watch his heart get ripped apart and trampled by two oblivious people in the beginnings of a happy relationship is not how he should go about handling it.

And because they both know that as well, Konoha nudges him with an elbow and drops his voice into an uncharacteristic softness.

“Should I start worrying about you?”

“I would prefer you didn’t. I’m capable of taking care of myself.”

“You’re very capable of taking care of others. Yourself, though?” When Konoha sighs, Akaashi can sense the weight behind it. He hates it. He shouldn’t be making others think about him like this. He just needs to move past this sooner. They can’t coddle him forever. “Just call me if you ever need to talk. We’re friends. Once teammates, always teammates, right?”

“I suppose so-”

“Hey, hey, Konoha!” Konoha turns, whipping around like he’s forgotten what it feels like to be summoned by Bokuto’s excitement. Akaashi has become increasingly good at stopping himself from moving whenever Bokuto speaks- most of the time it isn’t even in his direction anymore. “Come on over here! You haven’t met Himeko, right?”

He moves, probably waving, but then turns back into Akaashi and gives him plenty of time to object.

“Your captain calls, Aki.”

Akaashi lets him go. 

“You’re not coming?”

“I’ll be over in a minute.”

But even after Konoha leaves him, he doesn’t move. He stays seated at the bar until he pays his tab and gathers enough sense to stand. With wobbly knees, he simmers in the heat of a handful of beers and the horrible thought of suffering through another minute of pretending he’s okay with all of this.

Akaashi looks toward the table- sees they were all smiling about something Bokuto is saying. Himeko is a pretty girl, all rosy-cheeked and bright eyes. If he cared to get to know her, he would probably see just why Bokuto is so enamored. She looks like a sun all to herself.

Two suns are bound to cause each other to burn out eventually. Hopefully, he won’t be the one called to clean things up once it happens.

But for now, they are just brilliant. He can’t stand to watch them any longer.

He has no other plan past leaving. The cool air outside is a relieving wash over him. Maybe he’ll walk home. Maybe he’ll lay down in the street and let a car run over him. Let his ghost float off and finally find peace away from being tethered to someone who clearly will never want him like he needs to be wanted.

“Oi, big city!”

Akaashi turns, not really from the name itself, but more so because it’s shouted in his direction along with a sharp whistle. His eyes narrow past the glowing streetlight to the figure propped up against the wall of the building.

A small wave draws him closer, slow steps that stop once the man tips his head back and a familiar face comes into view.

“ _Myaa-sam-?_ ”

It’s a quick whisper, but the sound catches Osamu’s attention enough that he leans off the wall.

“What was that?”

Akaashi is already correcting himself before the question even makes it out in return.

“Miya-san- Hello- You’re-”

Arm extended, the end of Osamu’s cigarette fizzles away between them.

Quickly shaking his head, Akaashi waves at the offer. “I don’t smoke.”

“Do you wan’ me to-” His hand was already dropping, but then came another shake. 

“No, it’s fine. You were here first. I should-”

“I was also the one that called ya over here.”

“Right.” Glancing over his shoulder for no real reason, Akaashi holds his hands behind his back. “I, ah- didn’t know you were here. Or that you’d recognize me-”

“Didn’t really.” Squinting slightly, he brings the cigarette to his lips. “If I’m bein’ honest.” He pulls a drag in, red and orange glowing as he talks casually around it. “We’ve met.”

“Once or twice.”

“What’s yer name again?”

“Akaashi.”

“ _Mm,_ right,” He nods, flicking ash to the ground as smoke trails from a quiet laugh. “Yer the one Bo’s always gabbin’ about, huh?”

_Was he?_

He wouldn’t know. 

“I wouldn’t know.”

“He hangs ‘round Tsumu’s place sometimes. Quite a bit, honestly. Surprised he’s never dragged y’there considerin’ how much he talks about you.”

“Well, he has his teammates. I have my-” _what?_

“Your-?”

“My job keeps me busy. Unfortunately, I don’t have much free time.”

“You came from the match though, right?”

“I have _some_ free time just- not much.” There’s a lull. A shift that seems to cut them off from the rest of the evening. He could- _should-_ easily excuse himself then and escape the spiral of finding himself wanting to know more and more; but he feels the pull to linger for whatever reason that may be. “And you?”

“Sorta. My place set up shop outside for the first time. I’ll be there next time too, probably. Did good business so I guess it’s worth it- you like onigiri?”

“Oh that’s-” He’d seen the sign passing through toward the arena. It hadn’t clicked at the time. “I saw but I didn’t know it belonged to you. I almost came but a friend went instead. I didn’t know you were- that you had- or hadn’t-”

“Hmm?” 

Akaashi stops, just for a moment, just long enough to find his way.

“I guess I figured with a record like yours- like your _team’s-_ you would have kept playing like Atsumu-”

“We do live separate lives, y’know.”

“That’s not at all what I-”

“Are ya surprised I gave up?” _Gave up- no-_ “I’m told not everyone can be as amazing as my brother. Usually _by_ my brother, but-”

“I didn’t mean to say-”

“Nah, it’s okay. You can. Tsumu tells me all the time how shitty I am for bailin’ on it.”

“No.”

It’s short and a little loud. How things tend to be when he’s misunderstood. When people fill the gaps between his words with their own thoughts. When he doesn’t have the time to figure out what he’s trying to convey even to himself.

“No?”

“I’m sorry-” He doesn’t _need_ to apologize. He didn’t mean it that way- didn’t mean to insinuate anything- “I just meant to say- I wouldn’t call it giving up. That would- Well, that would mean I gave up as well, wouldn’t it?”

A long, drawling hum stretches in the small space between them. A flick of ash to the ground. A sniff.

“Guess so.”

Very matter of fact. 

“It was just a different choice.”

“Hopefully the right one- well, then, what different choice was the one you made?”

Maybe not the right one.

It certainly didn’t feel right.

But neither had volleyball.

“I’m an editor.”

“For?” 

“A-” He breathes around the word before he says it. It really never feels right. “Shonen magazine.”

“Riveting.”

“More riveting than being elbow-deep in sticky rice.”

Still short. Still on the edge of uninhibited. He’ll probably regret this entire conversation come morning. He shouldn’t be taking his frustrations out on someone he barely knows.

“ _Damn_ , alright.” But Osamu gives a laugh and, strangely, Akaashi feels a little relieved that he isn’t entirely put off. “You know, we’re supposed to come here to have fun.”

“And yet we’re both outside.”

“ _And-_ what’s yer excuse? I got mine, but you already said ya don’t smoke. Looks to me like you were dippin’ early on the party.” Osamu smiles like he’s being clever but the question alone is enough to pull everything Akaashi tried to shut inside the walls of the bar back in front of him. All the laughs and bright eyes and bright futures and bright, lovely feelings.

He didn’t fit in there.

Doesn’t quite feel like he fits in anywhere.

“Eh,” Osamu waves between them, pushing away one gloomy cloud just to make room for another to take its place. “Forget I asked.”

“I’m sorry,” Sighing through the apology- _another apology_ \- Akaashi turns to lean against the wall next to him. His head falls a little, fingers picking idly at the seam down the sides of his slacks. “I’m not usually so...”

He doesn’t even know what he is anymore. Thinking is hard, rationalizing his behavior- even harder. He settles on a shake of his head while pushing fingers under his glasses and pinching at the bridge of his nose.

“Nah, s’fine. I’m not offended. I know I’m not the one that made ya mad. How could I be?”

But he doesn’t want to come off mad at all. _Mad_ isn’t even the right word. If he thinks long enough, he can probably come up with the right poison of emotions sliding through him.

He prefers staring at the wisp of smoke that is blown in front of them instead.

“You wanna talk about whatever it is?”

Akaashi isn’t sure what face he pulls but it must not be entirely disagreeable because Osamu carries on like he’d already said yes.

“I won’t tell no one if that’s what yer worried about. Who am I gonna tell? My brother? It’s not about him so he wouldn’t care. Only other person I ever really talk that you know to is Bo and aren’t you two best friends or somethin’?”

“Or something, I suppose.”

“You sure you’re good?”

“I’m fine.” Arm out, he flicks his fingers in the general direction of Osamu’s hand. “But I’ve changed my mind.” 

“You don’t gotta just ‘cause I offered.”

Still, he meets Akaashi in the middle and lets the cigarette be pulled from between his fingers. It is a horribly familiar little weight in his hold. Akaashi brings it to his mouth, draws his breath in steady, lets the feeling of buzzing, burning, smoke fill him entirely before emptying it back out on another sigh.

“Can I say you don’t really look like someone who doesn’t smoke.”

“Guess I should’ve said I don’t smoke anymore.” Hungry, he takes another full breath from the cigarette. His eyes narrow in on the road in front of them, fuzzy beyond the glow of the burning tip. “I did. For a year. I have a bad habit of adopting, well, bad habits.”

“Sorry to pull you back in.”

“You didn’t.” He passes it off before tucking his hands under crossed arms. “This is the most peace I’ve had all day.”

“You ever gonna tell me?”

“It’s nothing, really. I’m being- insensitive.”

“On purpose?”

“Sometimes.”

“Like, right now?” They are both so very close to laughing. Akaashi feels like they should be. But something about it isn’t as funny as he wants it to be. “How’s that going?”

“I’m out here. Avoiding something.” _Someone._ “Being rude. That’s insensitive. And cowardly.”

“Yer entertaining me. That’s pretty nice of ya.”

“I’m the one being pitied here. Which isn’t-”

“Do you think that’s what I’m doin’?” Then, Osamu does actually laugh. Apparently the only one capable of it. “I asked ‘cause I’m nosey not ‘cause I wanna pity you.”

Akaashi’s chest clenches, his face twitches- but still nothing more than that. He can’t laugh when he’s about to let it all spill- he is, isn’t he?

“Are you going to keep prying if I don’t tell you?”

“Gently. But yeah.”

He is.

“I’m avoiding my best friend- _or something_ \- because I’m-” He’s going to say it. “Jealous. I guess.”

No guessing.

He is.

Jealous, unfairly so. It’s no one’s fault. He just wants someone other than himself to blame.

“I get that.” _Do you-_ “Sometimes it’s hard to be around Tsumu when he’s gloating after a game.” _Oh no-_ “Y’kinda start missin’ the feeling, don’t ya? I’m happy for him, but it’s definitely bittersweet-”

“Ah,” He wished he could laugh. “No. That’s not- I’m not jealous of Bokuto-san. Or your brother- not any of them winning- No, I wish that was- I’m avoiding him. I’m also avoiding his- who he brought. _Her-_ Both of them. Having to watch-” He stops trying. He’s said enough. “I couldn’t be in there anymore.”

“Damn,” It’s like a low whistle. But there isn’t malice behind- or shock really- “That’s even worse.” Only bleak acknowledgement. A brief pause for consideration. “But I don’t think yer bein’ any of those things you said. If you’re uncomfortable, there’s nothin’ wrong with leavin’.”

“I should support him when he’s happy. I don’t want to bring them down just because I-”

“Fuck that.”

His head turns fast. Osamu isn’t looking at him. His gaze is forward on the pavement in front of them but he’s close to frowning and- isn’t that strange?

“You can’t help it, right?”

If he could, this would have been over so long ago- the first time he ever knew bokuto would never see him like that.

Akaashi shakes his head gently.

Osamu must see it from the corner of his eye. “Then, don’t kill yerself worryin’ about it. He’s a nice guy. And if he’s yer friend, he’ll understand.” He throws in a soft, _tch_ before looking back up to the street. “Not like it’s your fault. Y’don’t make yerself unhappy on purpose-” _But that’s arguable-_ “-so no one can fault ya for yer feelings. Besides, just go find someone else then and you’ll stop feelin’ jealous, right?”

Just like that.

Accepted.

Rationalized.

Simple solution for something that’s been terrorizing him for years.

Simple. And so very impossible.

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

Hand lifted, Osamu holds the cigarette between them. Akaashi hesitates in his reach for it. He knows he’s being watched, but still, he leans forward instead of grabbing for it. In the moment, he could blame the alcohol. Looking back, he could just as easily blame his aching heart. Either way, he has an excuse for the way he keeps his hands tucked away, parts his mouth around the end of the cigarette, and dares for his lips to just barely touch Osamu’s fingers.

It’s uncalled for. Embarrassing, really. He won’t be surprised if he’s left awkwardly hunched with the cigarette in his mouth while Osamu steps away as quickly as he can.

But for once, perhaps the universe decides to give Akaashi a chance. It comes in the gentlest rest of a thumb on his cheek as he drags in a slow breath. He lets his eyes dip until the hand moves away and he is breathing the smoke back out. The stream falls between them, lifting in the air along with his gaze.

No wider than before but with an entirely new sense of wonder, the polished silver of Osamu’s eyes sparkles back at him.

Something shifts.

Or maybe he’s shoved it forward with an uncharacteristically brazen move.

Just like that.

A quick flick of Osamu’s thumb against the butt sends it flying to the concrete. Akaashi drops his attention to it- Red erupts along the ground, ash tumbling. Then he looks back up, just half-way, focusing in on the collar of Osamu’s shirt. Close enough that his vision goes a little blurry but still enough room for him to pretend there’s nothing to notice here.

But Osamu shifts closer and Akaashi blinks slowly. _Ah,_ there’s no choice but to notice everything.

The warmth edging toward him is as inviting as it is stifling. Similarly, the smell of Osamu’s cologne is nice- It’s much better than the stench of beer and too many people, but it fills his nose with every tiny inhale.

Akaashi’s eyes flick up to find something new to stare at. Anything other than Osamu’s face. The tuft of hair daring to tickle his forehead is a much better choice. But there’s a finger on his chin, pulling his face back down and-

Akaashi hates that he knows he has the time to move. To agonize over everything. To wonder if he should duck, or slide down the brick, or push away and step back from it all.

It would be possible to brush it off that way. If he dodges- he has the sense Osamu would be the kind to laugh off his embarrassment.

Things would’ve been easier that way.

They’d laugh. Probably apologize. Go their separate ways and eventually forget anything ever almost happened.

Easy.

Leaving right then.

Offering a goodnight and a thank you for the first truly pleasant conversation he’d had in weeks. Nodding his head in a small farewell of a bow. Turning away and walking back to his empty apartment.

So much easier.

Easier, but-

The shoulder pusing into his own is grounding. The breath brushing his cheek, warm. It’s all so unnecessarily complex considering he is very much an available man. Feeling something new shouldn’t be so hard. Why does he have to cram so many thoughts into a few hazy milliseconds?

It’s exhausting. Frustrating. He wants to feel without thinking for once. _Be_ without questioning why- why he’s standing like that- why he’s talking like that- why he’s breathing like that- why he always has to be so- _like that-_

He’s so tired of thinking. _Feel now, think later._ But what is he feeling?

Feeling like this is going to be complicated. Feeling like most of him _wants_ something complicated. To be a different kind of tired. Not so listless. More satiated.

In the end- in the last of the dragging seconds that should be barely enough time to blink- Akaashi doesn’t move.

He gives in.

Tips his chin up just a bit.

Lets his eyes close to black out the sight of his smart, easy, not-so-messy decision slipping away. 

Lips, just barely parted. Inhale, stuttered. Exhale, smoke-laced.

Lips, soft and wet. Inhale, daring. Exhale, surrendered.

Akaashi hasn’t been kissed in months. Kissed without the very obvious implication- the demand- of something more; even longer. Has he forgotten what it’s like? Is that why the way his chest seizes up and his palms throb is so startling?

He tells himself not to jump. _Stay put. Kiss back. Open your mouth. Tilt your head. Steady your breathing. Don’t panic. Don’t stiffen. Relax. Feel._

Oh, but it’s over.

Nose brushing his own, teeth on his bottom lip, sigh passing into his lungs- all over and gone before he knew what to make of them.

“ _Ah,_ _shit-_ ” The curse falls on his face. Something about it curls around his neck and trickles down his back. Akaashi opens his eyes to an unsure smile. “Sorry.” Leaning away but not entirely stepping back, Osamu gives him room to overthink once more. “That was totally outta line.” Then he laughs- Akaashi had guessed right. How funny. Pleasant. “Here ya are tellin’ me about yer feelings for someone and I just-”

In spite of it all, Akaashi feels himself wanting to smile. But would a smile come across as mocking? He doesn’t want that. He wants- _what does he want?_

He slides along the wall, ignoring the way the brick pulls at the threads of his jacket. The expansive night swims at the corner of his eye. He would’ve teetered without the solid building behind him, the solid shoulder that his hand grabs onto, the solid grip that comes to his bicep when he seeks out Osamu’s mouth again.

It is with some degree of clumsiness- probably what caused Osamu to grab his arm in the first place. Maybe he’s a little drunk. Maybe he’s just confused and curious and trying something out. But what he’s lacking in finesse, is covered up by a- _most likely_ \- embarrassing amount of eagerness.

Akaashi knows then; he wants more of whatever it is he just felt.

If Osamu can move without thinking, so can he.

It’s different this time. Not so much of a shock. More deliberate. Heavy. Osamu’s hand on his arm leaves to take his jaw next. It’s cold against his skin, but those fingers press with intent and make him begin to burn. 

Is Akaashi trembling? Or does it just feel that way to his hazy, desperate thoughts?

Even if he is, Osamu isn’t entirely deterred. He simply holds Akaashi’s face tighter, both hands on his cheeks then, tongue sliding along his teeth with a buzzed laziness.

Still the first to pull away, Osamu lingers. He takes his time with each kiss before tipping his head back and giving another laugh toward the sky. “Alright- I take back my apology.”

Dropping his chin again, his hands slip down but stay settled on Akaashi’s neck. Things are surprisingly calm even after their eyes meet. There is a coolness to Osamu that Akaashi envies. As abrupt as this all was, he appears unfazed. Along for the ride. Open to the utter mess he’s inadvertently gotten himself tangled up in.

“Look- I’d-'' He looks away then, thumbing idly at Akaashi’s simmering pulse beneath his fingers. “Right about now I’d probably invite you to my place- but seeing as that’s a couple hours on the train and I’m stayin’ with Tsumu for the weekend- well, he’s made it clear he doesn’t really care for me invitin’ people over-”

“I live nearby.”

Akaashi has no idea where it comes from.

But he _does_ have some practice.

And apparently, people find him alluring.

He isn’t entirely sober.

He hates beer but at least it gives him some gall.

There’s a lot of places it could’ve come from.

“Yeah?” 

The possible relief in Osamu’s tone is encouraging.

“It’s-” He stands up a little straighter but neither of them move away any more. “We can walk there. Just a few minutes.”

“You sure?”

It’s his last chance.

A courtesy extended from one unsure party to the other.

He takes a moment to consider the weight of saying no and dragging himself home to the silence and the bitterness versus possibly making things so much worse. Ruining a possible friendship. Making future situations inevitably uncomfortable. Having to forever face Bokuto with the knowledge that- _I hooked up with your teammate’s brother once-_ Oh, no, and Atsumu- who he sees more often than he would prefer- _I hooked up with your brother-_

Akaashi wouldn’t tell him, but would Osamu?

He realizes he has no idea how close they actually are. How much they share-

He _does_ know Atsumu wouldn’t leave it alone for a long time once he knew. He’s always found Akaashi amusing- has told him such- _amusing_ he says, but Akaashi knows he means _weird_. It’s just because he’s quieter than most. More private. His privacy is a very important thing and this was truly jeopardizing it.

Is it worth it-

Is it better than being alone?

Yes.

Is that really all that matters in the moment?

“I’m sure.”

“Okay,” He pushes off the wall, tossing his head toward the bar’s entrance. “Should you-”

“It’s fine.”

He knows it’s wishing for too much hoping no one’s noticed he’s left, but there’s still a chance and he’s not risking it.

“Right.” Osamu remembers, maybe, the reason for it all- but he reaches back to pull his phone out anyway. “Lemme just text Tsumu. He’ll chew my head off if I don’t tell him I’m leavin’.”

“Sure.”

Osamu nods along. “Yeah, sure.”

The walk was quiet. But not uncomfortably or awkwardly so.

They shared another cigarette for lack of anything better.

Each step, the cold air, the slash of nicotine- it was all rather sobering. He used to be able to drink so much more when he smoked and now he nearly remembers why.

“I apologize for the mess.” Akaashi says out of habit when they step into the living room.

“S’fine.” He’s looking around- Akaashi wishes he could hear the thoughts moving behind such an open expression. Swinging his eyes back over to Akaashi, he shifts in the middle of the room. “Should I shower?”

“Would you like to shower?”

“Well- I was workin’ all day and I wouldn’t want yer bed to start smellin’ like smoke.”

Akaashi falters slightly in pulling the contents of his pockets onto his table. Wonders how it must feel to be able to be so forward without a hint of worry.

“I don’t mind.”

“Yer jus’ bein’ nice.”

Maybe so.

“I should probably wash my sheets more often anyway-”

He’s stopped by a muted chuckle.

“That’s not somethin’ you should be tellin’ me.” Osamu’s head shakes- amused? Taunting? “I’m showerin’.”

He doesn’t wait- just starts to walk off like he knows where he’s going.

He’ll figure it out.

Akaashi doesn’t want to sound as keyed-up as he is showing him about the place. It’s much better for the both of them if he just pretends to be okay.

In the absence, he wonders where to exist.

Being in the bedroom already comes off as presumptuous- as if there aren’t clear intentions here-

But, maybe not yet. He should offer tea first-

Near midnight?

No,

He sighs and pulls his phone out for the first time since he’d been suffering beside Konoha on the bartop.

There’s not much. There never is. He reads through a handful of emails, answers too many considering he’s off the clock and not entirely sober- the temptation is always too strong. Moving on, there’s a few texts. Most of them from-

_Oh-_

Kenma.

_Not good-_

_Why-_

He scrolls quickly to the end of them.

<< _answer me_

_ << are u dead _

<< _your ghost still owes me ¥5000_

_ >> Stop heckling me for money. You have plenty more than I do. _

_ << youre not dead _

_ << bokuto thinks youre dead _

_ << tell him youre not so he’ll stop trying to call me _

Akaashi’s hand clenches around the phone, thumbs hovering and twitching as he huffs.

Bokuto can call him if he’s so worried.

No, Akaashi really wishes he doesn't do that.

Maybe he had already.

Akaashi hadn’t looked.

He’ll ignore it if Bokuo tries again.

No, he won’t.

Answering Bokuto will only make things worse.

He can’t explain why he’d left.

He has to get them off his back somehow.

With a deep breath and a hard, squeezing blink, the phone is up to his ear and ringing away. As soon as it’s picked up, Akaashi speaks before Kenma has the chance to start badgering him.

“I’m alive so you can call off the hunt.”

“ _I’m not the one who cares._ ” A bit of rustling comes just before an irritated sigh. “ _Did you fall asleep on the phone again? Why is he so insistent that you’re lying in a ditch somewhere?”_

“I don’t know.” With the following silence there’s the pressure of the scowl undoubtedly settled along Kenma’s brow. Akaashi picks off a piece of fuzz from his shirt left by the inside of his jacket. Lips pursed, he frowns at it and flicks it off toward the couch. “We were at a bar earlier with the team.”

“ _And now?_ ”

“I’m not.”

“ _And you went-?_ ”

“Home.”

“ _I’m going to assume you didn’t say goodbye.”_

 _“_ He figured it out. _”_

_“What happened?”_

“Nothing.”

“ _What did he do?_ ”

“Nothing.”

“ _What did he say?_ ”

“Nothing.”

“ _Something happened._ ”

“Nothing happened.”

“ _Keiji-_ ”

“Do you think I’m ready to get over him?”

Another silence holds Akaashi’s jaw tight. His eyes, tired and a little bleary, narrow at the wood beneath socked feet.

“Ken-”

“ _Please._ ” Kenma scoffs in the back of his throat- it could be at something else- but it’s just as believable that it is directed toward the pathetic situation Akaashi keeps putting himself in. “ _I don’t know why you’re even asking me. If it were up to me, I would’ve had you get over him years ago. It’s not like he’s showed any intention of-”_

 _“_ And how’s that going for you? _”_

A clipped _tch_ gets rid of the chance that conversation is going anywhere. Silently, ashamedly, pining after the unattainable best friend is an affliction they share but ignore.

That is, ignore it unless it can be sharpened into a blade to jab at each other.

_“Listen, Keiji, you’re-”_

The rest of that is lost to something- be it indifference, uncertainty, apathy- another gaping silence.

“Yes,” Akaashi cuts in, sending a quick glance over his shoulder before he hunches and mutters quickly back into the phone. “-please continue to be utterly defeated when trying to scrounge around your brain for a half-hearted compliment you think will placate me.”

_“If this is you getting over him then I change my answer. You’re rude like this and I’d rather have you still moping around.”_

“Maybe I’m just playing catch-up for all the times you’ve been _rude_ to me. Actually, it’s probably easier to count the times you haven’t been-”

“ _Hey. Why are you getting pissy at me? I didn’t call you. And I’m the one having to deal with your idiot friend bothering me because you’re too self-flagellating to answer him._ ” A loud clatter came between a round of cursing under his breath and a loud hiss. _“Okay- whatever, I’m tired of this. You wanna have this conversation when you sound all piss-drunk and bitchy?”_ He’s not that drunk. Bitchy was more accurate. _“I’m not doing this again- You’ve been getting over him for a while and it’s annoying to watch. You’re just mad because you want me to tell you what you already know. You’ve been pretending you’re scared to stop thinking you’re in love with him but really you’re just afraid because there isn’t anyone else to love if not him. And that’s because you think meeting new people is a waste of time.”_

 _“_ So do you. _”_ It was an easy rebuttal. A hushed snap that was a quick way to avoid acknowledging anything else he’d said.

“ _Mooning over him has always been easier than looking for someone else._ ”

His jaw opens, but there’s a knot of words, conflicting and alike, that stay lodged in his throat. Before he could unravel any one from the other, there’s a creak of the wood from his hall.

“ _He doesn’t want you._ ”

Kenma is always so mean like that.

Not a hint of sympathy. Only the truth.

That’s what he wanted, right?

“ _Get over him._ ”

He swallows roughly, almost gagging on the dryness and the taste of beer and smoke and the truth.

“Maybe I-”

“Hey, ‘Kaashi.”

Akaashi straightens up immediately, speaking clipped into the phone. “I have to go.” 

_“And sulk until you pass out?”_

“ _No_ , I’m just-”

“Oh,” Osamu is closer now. He drops his voice a little, but it’s still probably too loud. “My bad, I didn’t know y’were-”

_“What was that?”_

“No one.”

_“Who’s in your apartment?”_

“You don’t even care.”

_“No, but I still want to know.”_

“You just want something to gossip about.”

_“It’s intel. For when Kuroo nags me about what happened.”_

“My life isn’t a strategy game.”

_“That’s arguable.”_

“I’m going.”

_“Have fun.”_

“Tell Bokuto-san I’m alive.”

_“Tell him yourself.”_

_“_ I’m busy. _”_

Akaashi hangs up before that goes any further. Kenma starts chiming away but he ignores the incoming stream of texts. Kenma will get bored of whatever this is soon, but Akaashi doesn’t wait around for it. He shuts his phone off, sitting it on the couch-side table.

Now to face the beast-

Metaphorical and apparently otherwise.

“I’m sorry,” He enters his room, head ducked, fingers findling in front of him, “My friend was making sure I got home and I-”

“It’s fine.” 

It isn’t fine.

It’s far from fine because he isn’t prepared in the slightest to walk in on Osamu sitting cross-legged atop his bed with wet hair slicked back and only a towel wadded up in his lap.

 _Curse it all to hell-_ it’s been awhile since Akaashi has lured someone back here with legs like this. This is dangerous. Far more so than he’d initially realized. Tipsy, tired, stressed- he’s going to make a fool of himself.

“I didn’t mean to bother you- See, I was jus’ makin’ myself at home in here like I figured I could and I- well, sorry, I didn’t _mean_ to- but I saw somethin’ and maybe I went a bit too far but I was kinda wonderin’- well, what’s this?”

“What’s what-” His head lifts, forcing his eyes off dripping water down into the bend of a knee.

He’d responded without actually looking. Without catching sight of the black strap in Osamu’s hand. His will to live slips right out of his body. The silver d-ring at the end of the cord is cradled in the other hand, while the shiny nylon trails to the corner of the mattress where Akaashi knows it’s tucked underneath. Knows because he put it there himself. Set the whole thing up months ago. 

_What did he do to deserve this?_

From Osamu’s tone, the slight lift of his cheeks, he already knows.

What else is there to it?

 _It’s a restraint system that I bought online for seven thousand yen_. 

He can’t just _say_ that. Not without it sounding skeevy.

Sure, he invited Osamu over here with the clear purpose of doing _something._ They both knew that much. But Akaashi hadn’t intended on him digging around behind his headboard. Surely, he hadn’t been careless enough not to tuck it away the last time he-

“Whatcha hookin’ on here?” He has the nerve to laugh while Akaashi is busy mentally planning the exact flower arrangement he wants to decorate his grave with. Osamu definitely knows. “Or maybe I should ask who.”

“I-”

There’s no way to talk himself out of this.

“There’s no way to talk myself out of this.”

Akaashi is sure he probably looks like a ghost.

Osamu’s grin turns cunning and he gives the ring a toss into the air, catches it again, squeezes it.

“Not without it bein’ an obvious lie.”

Tongue between his lips, Akaashi breathes tight through the static and tries to collect himself. 

He’s done this before. He can damn well do it again. He bought that for a reason. 

“Pardon my frankness, but I don’t think you know me well enough to make that call. I’m an excellent liar.”

“I heard enough aboutcha.” His smile fades if only minimally. “But, I’ll be honest. The person I’ve met ain’t who I was expectin’ ya to be.”

He’s finding his footing now.

“Who were you expecting?”

“Certainly not someone who’s tying men to his bed often enough that he actually felt the need to purchase- Whatever this is.”

He’s stepping into the familiar shadow that lurks around this room. That waits for Akaashi to call out to it.

“And you think I do the tying because?”

To drape it over himself until they’re one and the same.

“So that _is_ what these are for-”

It’s armor.

“It’s rather obvious.”

Or maybe, truthfully, it’s the naked, honest version of himself.

“To think- the quiet, unassuming, hardworking Akaashi-”

The version he wishes he could be all the time.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

If only he could find the means in the daylight.

“‘Cause I can feel it in the way yer talkin’ now.” Cloaked, opened up, Akaashi can find his breath again. “You were surprised I found it- sorry again, but yet not embarrassed, are ya?”

“Should I be?”

“I don’t think so.”

He should find that more relaxing- if only it weren’t so revealing. This could so easily get out to far too many people that knew him-

“So… was this yer plan all along?”

“No.” He’s too quick with the answer. It adds a bit of edge back to the room. _Damn it,_ he usually has more poise than this. “I wouldn’t- I would have said so. It’s- not exactly something you just surprise someone with.”

“Why not?”

“It takes,” His hands go behind his back, sliding together, occupying part of his mind with their idle fidgeting. “-understanding. Agreement.”

“What else s’there to understand about bein’ tied up to a headboard? Unless there’s more lurkin’ under there? Somethin’ gonna bite me if I go lookin’?”

He’s trying to make light of it all, but this has always been something that- like nearly everything in his life- Akaashi takes rather seriously. He has to.

“It’s not so simple-” Akaashi sighs with the brief consideration of calling the whole thing off to spare himself any further risk. “I promise, I never intended- and if the thought alone is too much I won’t blame you for leaving. I would just prefer to keep these matters private, so if you could not-”

“Nah, I’m down.”

Drawing his attention back, Akaashi finds that Osamu’s smile is gone. “I’m sorry?”

No more joking, then.

“This thing.”

“Don’t be too rash-”

“M’not. I’m no innocent kid. Promise. I’ve tried some of this shit before. Kinda hurt though-”

“It shouldn’t.” With the tip of Osamu’s head, Akaashi fights off a frown. “It shouldn’t have hurt.”

But that grin returns so quickly. Just as captivating as before.

“Yeah, well, maybe I wanted it to.”

Quick inhale through the nose, heat rising to his skin- that settles it. More or less.

“So’s that a yes?” Osamu offers it like a choice, but he knows. They both know. “Kinda looks like y’wanna say yes.”

Akaashi chooses not to respond.

At least not verbally. 

He moves forward only to realize how tightly he’d locked his knees. His steps probably seem rickety as he comes to the side of the bed and leans over to fumble behind the top of the mattress. Osamu tilts back to watch him pull up the strap at the other corner, drop it to the bed, and reach back in. Next comes the two cuffs trapped between the mattress and the frame. Those, too, join the sheets. Everything out and on display, he steps back. He stares them down for a moment before looking up.

“I don’t believe you’re the one that should be asking for consent in this situation.”

Osamu leaves the strap in his lap to reach for one of the cuffs and turn it over in his hands. It’s an interested look he’s giving down at it. “I’ve already given mine. But you-”

“You’ve done this before?”

“I definitely haven’t done _this_ before.” The metal clasp hanging at the side of the cuff clinks as it’s tossed from one hand to the other. “Neck ties? Sure. Maybe a belt a few times, but actual shit- where the fuck you’d even get this?”

“Internet.” Akaashi takes the cuff from him and rips it open. That sound alone makes him feel much more at home. Things are settling as they should. The shadow clings to his shoulders and inches toward his fingers. “But I wasn’t asking about _this,_ this. I was more meaning-”

“What? You gonna lecture me about colors and safewords and an’ all that shit? S’fine- I got it.” The look Akaashi gives him must be as severe as he wants it to be- “ _Yes,_ ” Osamu drones with the sigh of a bored student. “I’ve gone through it all before.”

A nod. The extension of an open hand. He leaves the final move up to Osamu. There’s only a glance down to it before Osamu is reaching up and letting the cuff slide around his wrist.

Everything goes calm with the press of the velcro together. The limp hand cradled between his own, waiting to be led and placed, it brings Akaashi the peace- the interdependent trust he’s always searching for. 

“What got you into this shit, anyway?”

Often, Akaashi still asks himself the same thing.

In truth, the first time was an accident. Well- more like an unprompted request that he’d gone along with. It wasn’t often he went and followed someone home, but he could admit that he wasn’t impervious to the beckoning loneliness that stayed in its drab little corner of his body.

Still, standing over a stranger who was asking him to tie their hands and feet and make them cry any way he pleased certainly hadn’t been a part of the reality he imagined for himself. But it happened and things unraveled from there.

Over the past year or so- he came to realize that type of relationship was just easier. They never tried to learn anything about him or sought to make him like them. They came to escape their own world, pull him out of his own just for a bit. He rarely saw the same person more than once or twice. That was his decision from the beginning no matter what some of them asked for. Patterns were too easy to build and too hard to break. He didn’t want a routine for this part of his life. Routines lead to familiarity. To the risk of dependency. _Worse_ , affection. He needed anonymity. There had to be a clear line between who he was during the day and whoever it was he became with people pinned beneath his gaze.

That’s why he never meant for Osamu to uncover anything about this. Tonight was supposed to have been a different kind of escape. Frantic. Fueled by alcohol and resentment and sorrow.

What Osamu is asking for takes time. Thought. Care. It’s a daring gamble with someone he can’t possibly cut from his life entirely once they’re through. There is always a chance to run into him again at matches, parties, holidays- Akaashi shouldn’t be agreeing to this.

He doubts Osamu has even fully considered the weight of it all. It probably just sounds fun to him.

Akaashi should say no.

But then he catches sight of a pleased smile, “Well, what is it, ‘Kaashi? Wanna feel a little powerful?”

He always has been swayed easily by a look like that. A little sincere encouragement. Easy excitability.

“What makes you think you don’t have just as much power here as I do?” Cradling the cuffed wrist between his hands, Akaashi slides his finger along the top and dips it in to make sure it isn’t too tight. He cups the hook dangling off to pull and guide Osamu’s hand toward the corner of the bed. “All you have to do is say so, and I stop.” With a quiet click, the hook closes around the ring at the end of the strap. “Immediately.” He takes a step back, fighting the twitch of his lip as Osamu tugs to test the resistance. “Is that not power too?”

“Sounds just like plain decency t’me.” His brow is furrowed down at the cuff, but when he lifts his head, it clears back into an open gaze. 

“Maybe you’re right.” Stepping around to the other side of the bed, he picks the other cuff up. “But I’d like to assume we’re equals here. Does that sound okay to you?”

Another sharp crack of the velcro brings Osamu’s eyes along with the lift of his hand. It hangs in the air, simply waiting for Akaashi to take it; and this time, it’s hard to stop the small quirk of a smile.

“I suppose I can try to overpower you if that’s the sort of thing you like, but-”

“Y’wanna be my equal?” 

It’s asked with a baffled softness. Like it’s out of place to believe- not having to constantly fight to be better that someone. Outdo someone. Best someone.

What a shame that is. 

One Akaashi understood well.

“Of course.” Cuff around his wrist and tightened, Akaashi gives a gentle squeeze to his hand before connecting the cuff to the strap. “Decency and mutual respect are like equality, don’t you think?” 

“Guess so.” Osamu’s shoulders roll with both hands fixed. “You know- you’ve got nice hands.” He’s idly observing as the strap is tightened and his arm is pulled taut behind him.

“I don’t.” Akaashi tries his best not to frown. He hates them. They are ugly. Pale, gangly, red-knuckled, picked and splitting around his cuticles- shake when he gets nervous- crack when it’s cold- He absolutely hates them.

“Well I think so- hey, this is supposed to, like, relieve stress and shit, right?”

“Ideally, that’s part of it.”

“Does it for you?”

“Sometimes.” Without much thought at all, he spares time to drag a few fingers in a slow trail up the inside of Osamu’s arm from wrist to shoulder. “Other times, I suppose I just feel satisfied for letting someone have that sort of reprieve.”

“My stress is in your hands, then.” His smile is pleasant enough, but now, with his arms spread and palms flat to the sheets to lean back on- there’s something sparking off the fringe of his gently curved mouth, just barely flexed muscles, the subtle uptick to how his chest moves with every breath. “You don’t gotta be gentle with it, by the way. It’s a bitch to me on the daily.”

“How so?” 

Osamu tenses just slightly under his touch. His eyes fall, mouth pulling thinner. Akaashi pinches at the bend between shoulder and neck in response. It’s stiff there, knotted from hard work, doubt, the need to prove something- or maybe Akaashi is just projecting. But the harder he kneads, the more it gives way and the deeper Osamu breathes.

“Havin’ a business is great- I mean, this is what I wanted for myself. But it’ll do a fuckin’ number on ya.”

“I’m sure.” 

“You busy doin’ yer- _editing-?_ ”

“Depends on the time of year. But yes, I’m generally busy.”

“ _Mm,_ do ya like it?”

Not particularly.

“That’s a difficult question.” It’s not what he wanted to be doing. It’s not what he _thought_ he would be doing. But neither was this. “I like being busy.”

His fingers pinch a little harder at the tightness of Osamu’s collar. It pulls a sharp breath through Osamu’s teeth and his brows scrunch. Thumb digging in, Akaashi moves it in small circles. His hand falls lower shortly after, dragging fingers across his chest.

“My ma always told us busy people are either tryin’ to stay outta trouble or they’re runnin’ away from somethin’-” With a quick sigh at the press into his pec, Osamu’s head tilts. His eyes fall shut. “So, which are you?”

“Your mother seems quite wise.”

Then, he’s smiling ever so subtly. “She is, butcha didn’t answer.”

“Maybe I don’t know.”

“Maybe you just don’t wanna tell me.” 

Maybe he’s right.

But Akaashi won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that. Instead, he spreads his hand over Osamu’s chest. 

“I’ll share first-” Osamu starts but breaks off into a tiny gasp when knuckles pass over his nipple. Unfortunately, it doesn’t stop him. “I don’ mind.” He’s trying to sound normal- trying his best if the clench of his jaw with the next swallow is anything to go by. “I used to think I was the first, but now I kinda see I was just avoiding knowin’ I’m the second.”

Akaashi hums, finger rubbing light circles around the bud as it peaks beneath his touch. “And what are you running from?”

“Failing- y’know it’s not fair that I keep answerin’ and you don’t.” A flick of Akaashi’s nail over pebbled skin has his shoulders buckling. There’s a brief pause until Osamu’s chest puffs out and he wills himself to keep going. “But I like to think I can’t be considered a failure if I’m always doin’ something.”

Akaashi only gives a quick pinch to the nipple- earns a muted, whine of a sound in return- before he abandons it entirely to take Osamu’s cheek in his hand. There’s warm breath against his wrist but it’s calming down from the stuttered rhythm it had fallen into.

“I hardly think starting your own business is failing at anything.”

“Don’t say that around my brother.”

“From what I see, your brother can be quite an ass.”

Osamu’s face scrunches with a laugh. Akaashi strokes at the barest of blushes pressing up into his thumb. 

“Can I tell him you said that?”

“I wish you wouldn’t.”

“Alright, that one’s just for me then.” His eyes open. They cut up fast, smile slipping away when grey meets blue. “It’s our secret.” He says it so smoothly. But it’s less like a tease. More serious- as if he remembers what’s going on. Where it’s heading. The exact position he’s in. “So- do I gotta call you master n’shit now?”

Akaashi tries not to grimace. “I’d rather you didn’t.”

His hand slips away and Osamu frowns so close to a pout. His touch lands on the part of Osamu’s calf sticking out from under the towel. Just a small hope that it’ll will away any hint of that expression.

Osamu still mutters even as he drops his eyes, “It was mostly a joke.”

“Mostly,” Akaashi gives the muscle a gentle squeeze before his fingers curl and scratch faint lines through the fuzzy hair. “My name is perfectly fine.”

“What about me?” 

“Whatever you’d like.”

“Not Miya.”

“If that’s what you prefer.”

When Akaashi’s grazing trails a bit too far up the backside of his leg, Osamu’s knee twitches.

“You should lay back.” Akaashi suggests it evenly as he moves to rearrange the pillows until they’re piled nicely behind him. “You’ll strain your shoulders if you stay like this.”

As soon as he’s done, Osamu slides back into them. His shoulders roll as the cuffs keep his arms stretched and secured. His knees lift while slinks down. They sway back and forth, legs bent and feet planted on the sheets.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll take this now.”

Osamu lets out a quiet laugh, hips lifting just enough for the towel to be slid from under him. “If I minded, I don’t think we’d be here, yeah?”

Past a nod, Akaashi doesn’t have much of a rebuttal to offer. He shifts his attention downward instead. _Down._ To a softer stomach than he expected. A subtle bit of fat on muscle. Well fed. Maybe just enough to cup with gentle fingers. It isn’t a _surprise-_ Akaashi himself isn’t anywhere near as in shape as he once was, but the slight curve- he wants to rest his head on it. _Down._ No, he wants to rest his head on those thighs. _Down- No, wait._ He can pause there if he so pleases. On the definition that still lingers there. Thick meat engulfing the bone. His teeth slide together. _Up._ Gaze heavy, eyeing, observing- cock, not hard but not entirely soft either- Perhaps just the beginning of intrigue. A nice place to start. Especially considering all Akaashi has done so far is offer a bit of conversation and shackle his wrists to the bed. That is a good sign, if not a nice tickle to his ego.

Akaashi must’ve smiled, or huffed, or simply stared a bit too long because-

“Alright, I get it.” Osamu announces, successfully wrenching Akkashi’s attention up and away. 

_Up._ To a lazy smile, rosy cheeks, the cool slate behind dipped lashes. _Nervous?_ Not entirely discouraged. 

“Get it?” Akaashi repeats.

“This.” For lack of better movement, Osamu jerks his chin a bit. _Up._ “You. Like this.” Chin, back down. _Down._ “Me. Like this. I get it. I wouldn’t have thought I’d like bein’ bare-ass-naked while some fully dressed guy looks like he’s about to laugh jus’ from seein’ my dick- but whaddya know. Here we are.”

“Here we are.” Towel folded in his arms, Akaashi crosses the room to set it atop his hamper “Although, you _are_ the one that prompted this.”

“And yer the one that did a piss-poor job at hidin’ yer shit. Maybe yer subconscious wanted someone to find it. I just got to be the lucky one who did.”

“Lucky- is that right?” He turns back, every eyeful of stretched arms and fidgeting nerves making his gut twist. “I’ve never trusted my subconscious too much. It’s too rude and impulsive.”

“I dunno, I like it so far.” The lift of Osamu’s head from the pillows to sneer at him is what inevitably draws Akaashi back through the distance. “But I always thought you were shy.” 

To which he wishes he could reply, _“As if you ever had very many thoughts of me at all”_

“Not like I ever really knew ya, but between what I saw back in highschool- and the times we’ve met- and all that people say, I didn’t think you were capable of-” Osamu stops himself there. His head falls back once more, eyes focused on the ceiling. 

“Capable of what?” Akaashi’s steps are slow, hovering like a ghost toward the foot of the bed. “Are you scared?”

Osamu still has the audacity to laugh at him, but his head shakes and it’s an easy _no_.

“You shouldn’t be. I won’t do anything- _anything_ \- you don’t want me to.” Staring down, his voice evens into a low murmur. “Is that understood?”

The point- the _intention_ and necessary response of that question- is either lost entirely somewhere in the heavy air between them or it’s heard, deciphered, and completely disregarded. Because Osamu remains quiet. Maybe he nods. Maybe he doesn’t. It wouldn’t make a difference either way. Finding his footing, Akaashi’s shadow is quickly engulfing him with it’s usual greed. And the lack of acknowledgement strikes both irritation and excitement through him.

Bending forward, catching Osamu swiftly by the ankles, Akaashi pulls with enough force to straighten his legs, yank him flat across the bed and wring a gasp out with the abrupt shift. Osamu’s head comes up, eyes wider, startled little puffs leaving the part of his lips. 

“I’d like to hear an answer.”

“Yeah,” There’s still surprise flooding through him when he nods. “Yeah, I-” Like a bobble head, a bird trying to get a treat, “I getcha. Nothin’ I don’t want.”

Gracing him with the mere hint of a smile, Akaashi’s hands smoothe up his legs. “Good.” He stops briefly at Osamu’s thighs, grabbing at the muscle beneath.

“Can I say somethin’?” Osamu doesn’t wait- asking was apparently a mere formality. Or he’s just too jittery to keep himself from saying whatever is going on behind the furrow of his brow. “I know I haven’t done anythin’ like this all that much. And I’m not sayin’ I know anythin’ about it, but I think that- well, _that_ was _-_ it’s about makin’ people snap, ain’t it?” His head turns. He can distract himself with something off to the side- something _other_ than Akaashi peering up at him over the bare plane of his spread body. “Maybe that’s jus’ ‘cause of how I grew up, but- I dunno, there’s somethin’ about that bit of _somethin’_ in someone’ eyes just after ya piss ‘em off that’s-” The laugh that follows is forced. To stop himself again. To try and reroute back to whatever point he’s trying to make. “Well, so, even if I may look a little spooked- I promise I’m really in it.”

“ _Snap_. You said, right?” When Akaashi stands up, his hands go behind him and a smile crafted into something haunting curls across his face. “I’m sorry to tell you my patience is one of my more admirable qualities.”

“Are ya sure?”

When he steps around the bed, Osamu’s head turns to follow him. “Are you really in any position to try and provoke me?”

“I think shit’s kinda fun when yer just a little aggravated.”

“Then I’ll assume you won’t mind becoming thoroughly piqued. Don’t hesitate to tell me if you change your mind.”

Unspoken and maybe a bit one-sided, Akaashi has made his decision. Hidden away in his closet- up on a shelf- sits a box. Just a box. Shut by a small latch. Clothes piled on top so as to pass under the eyes of anyone that may find their way into his room- namely, his mother- Bokuto- Kuroo- Kenma- Konoha- _does he really let anyone else in here-_ They’re all nosey in their own right. Why does he feel the need to surround himself with such invasive people? Was he just lying to himself when he thought that Osamu seemed a bit different? A little more respectful. A little less likely to rummage through Akaashi’s things unprompted.

He often wanders toward it on these nights; but there are simply too many things to choose from beneath the heavy lid of that box. They all feel too large, too loud, too gaudy for the room this time. So, he ignores its presence and goes to his bedside table instead. Opens the drawer. Pulls out the bottle of lube he uses for any occasion. Partner or not, it’s familiar in his hand. The thought that something so indicative of what is going to happen would bring him any sort of _calmness_ probably should make him laugh.

There are eyes still on him. They’d seen what it was he picked out; but he holds it up anyway. Not even a breath passes for him to ask for approval before Osamu is nodding at him, shifting down into the sheets, settling in- getting _comfortable?_ That’s fine for the moment.

A step back first, then Akaashi places himself in the open space on the bed beside Osamu’s hip. He draws a leg up, bending it to sit with one foot under him and the other on the floor. Hand to Osamu’s thigh, his touch stays gentle as the heat pours into his palm. It slides up slowly, back down with the skim of nails.

Yes, this is going to be much different than what he’d assumed under a street lamp with heavy eyes on him and smoke in his lungs. There is no rushed, tipsy fumbling to be had. He is going to take his time. Let the cruel parts of himself pick apart someone else for a change. Give his aching mind a break and concede to a want more obtainable, more satisfying, than letting the solar flares of someone that doesn’t want him scar his heart.

Bottle open, lube dribbled onto his palm, there’s no going back after this. He spares a glance up, but Osamu is distracted, watching his fingers smear across his gooey palm. He follows Akaashi’s hand as it moves, opens, floats an inch away from his dick. It’s stiffened considerably in the few moments that have passed, curved nicely and giving a short bob in anticipation of his touch. Even nicer resting against his palm, in the crook of his fingers, hot as Osamu sighs somewhere in the distance. 

Transfixed, Akaashi waits. Tongue held between teeth and lips, he flicks through his options in static, dragging silence.

“Y’just gonna hold it?”

As he tends to, Akaashi decides a lot of things in a very short amount of time. One of those being to mangle the smugness firmly rooted in Osamu’s voice any way he can.

“I’m going to do whatever I want with it. Within reason.” His hand flexes but there’s nothing much in return. Just a minute jump in Osamu’s inhale and a small shift of his knee. “Is that not adequate?”

“Maybe I was expecting somethin’- I dunno.” His laugh sounds off so Akaashi stills. There isn’t much change to the way Osamu’s staring down but his tongue does dart out. It slides along his lip before his teeth then its back in. “Y’got me strapped down all for a handie? I mean-”

“I’ve barely done anything and you’re already complaining?”

“Not really a complaint.”

“I can stop.” Now, his eyes dart up. “Would you prefer to lay here untouched instead?” 

Grey grows round but there’s no fear in his gawking. At least none that Akaashi can find through the shroud of heady interest. Osamu’s shoulder jerks when Akaashi’s hand lets go as though he thought he could reach out and grab his wrist before it left. But the strap pulls taut and his arm tenses from the resistance, caught helplessly above him. 

“Wait, wait, _”_ Osamu settles back, moving deeper into the pillows to cover up the sudden lurch. _“_ I just meant-“

“Even ants can take down an army as long as there’s enough of them.”

There’s a moment where all Osamu does is stare at him. Then, his brows come together and he rolls his head to the side. “Am I the ants or the army?” 

“You’re the army, Osamu.”

“So yer the ants?” His head tips to the other side. “Or just one ant? Who’re the others?”

Against the feeling that had settled in the room, the way things should be, the way Akaashi normally behaves once things have begun- he finds himself on the verge of smiling.

“Wait,” Osamu starts again, head shaking. “No, I got it- _The straw that broke the camel’s back_ \- right? I’m the camel.” 

Even if it’s just a single, quiet sound in his chest; Akaashi knows it to be a laugh. He feels it hammer around only to die against the pinch of his lips.

“I still don’t really get it.”

“Maybe you will, in time.” 

“How much time?”

Akaashi adds another gob of lube to his hand, far too amused by the question to give it away. “Therein lies the point.”

He decides to curl his fingers around the tip of his cock this time. They rest there, warming as both their gazes drop back. Slow and feather-light, they move up, roll over the head, bump back and forth with slick ease.

One knee sways in the air, knocking against Akaashi’s arm as he begins a steady stroke. Osamu tugs at the restraints, just a toss of his arms to most likely let out some of the itch that’s growing along his skin.

“Fuckin’ hell,” He sighs, fusses, wriggles.

Maybe it had all just been talk, or maybe the buzzing energy is catching up to Osamu because he’s already going rigid with just this minimal amount of attention. It’s baffling.

 _All for a handie_ , huh- 

It’s _funny_.

“Maybe you’re just a single soldier after all.”

Much less formidable than an entire army.

But the ants are already crawling all over them. Tickling. Nipping.

“Huh?” Osamu’s glance is a little bleary when it scans over. There comes a fogginess in those grey eyes. Like clouds rolling in. 

“Nothing.” He soothes, thumbing at his cockhead and smiling at the growing blush.

It’s bleeding down from his face, leaving a spotty trail along his chest and the fitful lift of his stomach with each suck of air in.

“Shit _-_ ” falls fast on the exhale.

He’s leaking over Akaashi’s fingers but Akaashi keeps the slide of his hand slow, not letting up but not pushing any further.

With his dry hand, he reaches to take Osamu by the cheek. “Doing okay?”

“ _Nn,_ ” A nod comes before a husky, “Yeah-”

“Need a moment to calm down?”

The shrug he gets isn’t a full answer, but the throb in his fingers and the hitch in Osamu’s breathing is enough.

Akaashi doesn’t pull the grip around his cock away, but it stops moving and leaves them both room to settle.When the hand on his cheek moves up to brush his hair back, Osamu’s head tilts with it. His eyes go low at the scratching across his scalp. He hums deep, hips giving a languid roll that glides through Akaashi’s grasp and draws out a sigh of a moan.

Akaashi is too preoccupied with staring at Osamu’s neck- all stretched and tanned and bared- to pick up the pace again. Osamu’s throat bobs with every swallow. It begs to be scratched, or bit, or collared, or-

He isn’t entirely aware of himself as his hand leaves Osamu’s hair to come down to a delicate touch below his jaw. It’s not until Osamu speaks up that Akaashi blinks and notes the eyes on him.

“That supposed to help me be calm?”

Akaashi is a second away from pulling his hand back- but even as subtle as it may be, he feels Osamu lean into it.

“As if you’re staying still.” He tightens around Osamu’s cock with the next thrust along the wet bend of his fingers and Osamu flinches on the way back down to the bed. “Seems we were both indulging ourselves for a moment.”

“Well, feel free to keep goin’.” 

“Is that so?”

Chin tilting up, there’s no smile this time- just the dark pits of his eyes staring up and sucking Akaashi in closer.

“Yeah.”

Akaashi wants to- wanted to before he even realized it himself. He wants to dive right in, nudge this man closer and closer toward nothingness until that gaze on him rolls back into a pleasant haze-

“Can you tap your foot for me?” His words may come a bit too fast. Or they’re just so unexpected that all Osamu can do is squint at him. “Twice. Tap it.” Despite the uncertainty, he does it. His foot lifts and falls and Akaashi nods. “Do that if you want me to stop.”

“Got it.”

A whisper that slithers out just before he’s tensing up at the first real stress on his throat. Hold pinching into the sides, pressing up, Osamu’s pulse drums against his middle finger. Frenzied, deafening, its rhythm throbs from Akaashi’s fingertips through his entire body.

“Still okay?”

Not a moment passes.

“Keep goin’,” Muttered back at him, thrown with eyes trained on the ceiling and a bounce of his throat.

He closes in further, slow and just on the edge of cautious. The skin below his grip is fragile and vulnerable. The trust behind this is something he’s not sure he deserves. They barely know each other. For Osamu to put his life in a stanger’s hands- to let his eyes close and his mouth part and everything succumb to the deafening fog that comes with a practiced grip pushing right against his veins- Akaashi exhales until there’s nothing left.

When Akaashi slides a teasing finger from the base of his cock to the tip, a jumpy groan crackles below his touch. It’s followed by a wheeze that slips through his fingers at the first upstroke. It sounds tight but Akaashi curls his hand back down and Osamu’s mouth opens further around a hiccup.

The heat against his moving palm is distracting. The way Osamu’s body quakes despite being restrained, held down, on the verge of crumbling- it’s fascinating. Every time he attempts to bend forward in a jolt, to pull himself away from the fast strokes, he’s caught by the short straps making his arms bulge and the careful but persistent pressure below his chin.

It doesn’t stop him from moving. Writhing. His hips are canting forward, trying to fuck up into Akaashi’s clutch by the will of his legs alone. There’s a strained sound that tickles at Akaashi’s palm and for just a moment, he pushes his fingers in a little more. Only when that sound turns silent and Osamu’s jaw falls slack does Akaashi let up. The rush of air sliding fast into Osamu’s lungs before it pours right back out bounces around the room. Still, Akaashi cradles the pounding heartbeat as his other hand moves in quick, squelching jerks.

Skin, slick and shiny. Lips, red. Eyes, clenched shut. Chest, heaving. It’s a beautiful sight, one that drags Akaashi forward and makes him burn until all the sweat on his body freezes at the two short taps kicked off behind him.

Both Akaashi’s hands leave in an instant. They hover as Osamu drags in a few gasps and sinks into the sheets. His expression is all twisted up, but he’s turning his face into Akaashi’s hand the moment it meets his cheek.

Akaashi leans in, listening to the quick, hot breaths that drip down the inside of his wrist. “Are you okay?”

Osamu only nods at first but then swallows around a sound and blinks back into focus. “-was gonna cum.”

“And you warned me?”

There isn’t an outright answer, but the avoidant gaze, the shudder, the utter lack of dissent is clear enough. The heat that floods him is the sort that leaves the skin prickled in its wake. It turns itself over in his gut, seeps lower and has him shifting where he sits.

“Good.” Akaashi breathes through the sense of awe. “That’s good.”

Osamu simply sighs at the encouragement.

But the frantic way he’d lost himself gets pieced back together just as fast into something like a smirk. His mouth moves and purses as if he’s trying to fight it, but there’s still a levity behind it.

Akaashi sits back to look down at the entirety of him. “What’s that look about?”

“Nothin’-” He clears his throat, swallowing down the rest of his simpering. “I’m just realizin’ it didn’t take all that much t’get ya worked up after all.”

“You think I’m-” To avoid sounding baffled, he pauses. He’s ignoring the way the air is cooling sticky fingers while they sit cupped by his dry hand over his lap. Maybe it’s entertaining, but it shouldn’t be just because he appears- because he _isn’t_ \- “I think you have that backwards.”

The laugh Akaashi gets in return is as chilling as it is warm. Plenty of things have been said to him in this room. Looks, given. Promises, whispered. But never have quite so many of them been this lighthearted.

“Nah, yer somethin’. But I also realized I think power was the wrong word earlier.” People don’t usually bite back. “You just want control, doncha? Felt that with yer fingers ‘round my fuckin’ neck.” They just take whatever Akaashi gives them and thank him for it. “So is all that shy shit just an act or does it take a hell of a long time for you to get comfortable?”

They don’t try to rattle him.

It’s easier to do than they assume.

Easier than he’d like it to be.

“Just because I choose my words and actions carefully doesn’t mean I’m shy.”

“S’not a bad thing. I always liked the quiet ones. But I swear you guys think way too much. It’s a damn wonder how y’dont tire yerself out.” The moment Akaashi’s mouth opens for a futile rebuttal, he’s cut off by the glint of a grin. Right into the trap laid nicely for him. It would’ve been a lie anyway. “I know, yer already exhausted by me. I get it. I can be impulsive and you probably think I’m thoughtless, doncha?”

 _Thoughtless,_ not exactly.

Carefree, possibly.

Unashamed, maybe.

Admirably calm, certainly.

But a bit too daring for comfort.

“Does confidence confound you?”

There’s no overwhelming cockiness to the question, but the way it cuts through the air grates against Akaashi’s discretion with such a sudden threat that he can’t stop himself. He’s not so simple. 

“Don’t mistake arrogance for confidence.”

“I don’t.” Osamu is just as sharp, like he was anticipating the remark before it had ever left Akaashi’s lips. “People say reckless. But m’not dumb. If you don’t act fast, sometimes things get snatched right outta yer hand. And if you don’t poke where yer not supposed to, a lotta shit goes uncovered.”

“If you believe you’re smart, then you should know it’s best to stop talking while you’re ahead.”

“Am I? Ahead?” His arms shift and make the cuffs jingle. “Seems to me I’m always a step behind you.”

But he’d asked to be there.

“Only willingly so.”

And now, he’s asking for- _what?_

“Maybe.” He’s pushing and pushing in search of something- “But I’m havin’ fun like this. More now that yer startin’ to look a little pissed.”

What does it mean to _snap-_

Cracking didn’t sound like the right choice. Didn’t feel like it would be any good. It felt unstable. 

“My first suggestion to be quiet was polite, the next won’t be so forgiving.”

“Yeah, that’s the whole point.” As unstable as his scampering heartbeat became with every curl of that grin. “Forgiving is boring. And yer not boring, are ya?”

“Some would disagree.”

“Not me. Look all I’m sayin’ is-”

“You’ve said enough.”

He wants to make this stop but he knows that’s only to save from the shame of admitting how entrancing it is- and, _yeah_ ,

Maybe it is about control after all.

As if he didn’t already know that.

“I’ve got plenty more to say, actually.”

For once, Akaashi couldn’t fool anyone. Not himself. Certainly not the keen glow of the eyes below him.

“Later.”

Had he met his match?

“What if there ain’t a later?”

Was this something more than it always has been? No longer just a means to end.

“Then clearly the words weren’t meant to be spoken.”

A game.

“Nah, I’d guess-”

And a rather fun game at that. 

“Don’t make me gag you.” The words are a risk. A crack. A boundary they hadn’t cared to discuss. “Clearly my hand wasn’t enough.”

Even through the burn of irritation, he tracks the air- Osamu’s muscles- the gleam of his eyes- for a reaction. There isn’t any tensing, no sharp gasp of uncertainty, no sickened paling. Just that same, self-satisfied stare and a small curve to his lips just before they part.

At the mere notion of it, Osamu’s jaw falls slowly, that barbed trap being cranked open and waiting to slam shut again once something steps too close. It’s another blatant taunt. Akaashi knows it from the way Osamu’s teeth are peeking out from behind his lip and his tongue pushes out just a bit.

Akaashi tries to breathe in deep, hoping the air invading flared nostrils will soothe the grind of his jaw and the twitch of his shoulder that urge him to reach forward and squeeze out every last bit of insolence-

But shut it does.

The jarring click of Osamu’s teeth traps him. But if Osamu wants him to react this bad, so be it.

Osamu tips his head back to watch Akaashi stand and fold his hands behind him. He’s smiling all the way up until Akaashi bends to loom over him.

Hovering just above his face, Akaashi watches a bit of the brashness fade. He should remind him just who is pinned in the snare.

His first opportunity comes in the slightest crane of Osamu’s neck to get up to him, but Akaashi tilts his chin away for lips to meet the side of his mouth. A disgruntled huff has him catching Osamu by the jaw when he’s sinking away, holding it tight between the pinch of his fingers. Meeting the wide, then fluttering fast and low, gleam of Osamu’s eyes he whispers into the open space between his lips,

“You wanted me to snap.”

Akaashi gives in, only for a moment. His leaning sags to let Osamu meet him for a kiss. Mouth parted just slightly, a heavy breath floods over his tongue. He licks after it, into the mouth waiting for him. But tugging them apart, Akaashi’s inhale is more like a hiss through his teeth.

“Remember that and close your eyes.” It’s hushed, relaxed, but told without room for question or rebuttal. He bends down further to press his lips against Osamu’s temple first. “Don’t open them unless I say so.” He mouths at his ear next, words brushing against the lobe before teeth take over. “Understood?”

The nod against his cheek is slow. 

When things had begun, Akaashi mistakenly assumed they would proceed with a sense of tentative uncertainty. He hadn’t expected most of what followed. Hadn’t entertained the possibility of needing anything more than his hand and a couple of drawn out but attentive minutes. But stepping back, drinking in the sight laid out bare on his bed, the charged air they’d been working up to was licking at his palms, the soft skin of his exposed wrists, the blood roaring in his ears.

It takes more than he thought it would to tear his eyes away.

Turning his back on it without another word, he chooses to let Osamu fester while he goes to rummage around.

There is no haste to his steps as he makes his way into his closet and back.

Waiting is all part of it. 

Defenseless, a feeling of foreboding settles on the skin.

The quiet stretches endlessly while the darkness behind closed lids crowds in.

The picture he comes back to is mostly the same just cranked a little more tense. A little heavier. A little hotter.

Osamu’s legs tweak when Akaashi sits back down beside him. His face twists to keep his eyes shut tight.

“Where’d ya go?”

He asks quietly.

No reply. With no eyes on him, Akaashi has the chance to smile at the anxious interest radiating in front of him. His gaze drops to his lap, hands cradling a soft, slender vibrator. Shifted into the grip of one hand, he moves slowly to let the tip trail on top of Osamu’s thigh first. 

“ _Not fair,_ ” Osamu mutters, fidgeting like he can’t decide if wants to move away from it or not. “Not even lettin’ me see- for _what_?”

“You’re being impatient.”

“You try bein’ patient when someone’s been touchin’ yer dick for who the hell knows how long only to stop and-”

“ _And_ if you keep going I won’t be touching it again.”

It shuts him up fast with a reluctant clack of his molars.

Smile gone, a twinge of irritation slinks up to wrap around the back of Akaashi’s neck. _Complaining-_ like Osamu hadn’t given in easily to being dragged along the edge. Like this hadn’t been beyond enjoyable for him. As if Akaashi hadn’t been neglecting the pressure in his own pants for longer than he would truly like to focus on _his_ pleasure.

Not turning it on just yet, Akaashi presses it to the base of his cock to start. Osamu flinches with surprise, a short “ _Hey-_ ” jumping out. He sounds nervous but his eyes stay closed even as Akaashi skims the blunt end up to the tip. With it sitting there, Osamu shifts with a confused furrow of his brow.

“What is it?”

Still, no answer. Nothing at all. That would ruin half the fun. 

He shifts again, maybe trying to move against it in some futile attempt to figure it out- or get things moving- or keep some sort of friction where he wants it.

“Can I open my eyes at least?”

“Did I say you could?”

“No, but-”

Akaashi squeezes at the bottom- the vibrator whirrs loudly in his hand- Osamu’s entire body jumps.

“ _Hold up-!_ ” He spouts like pure reflex. His arms pull, the straps straightening tight as his fingers crack with how hard his fists curl. “‘Kaashi- wait-” He’s groaning, trying to curve himself away, but it’s easy to follow, easy to keep the vibe pressing into the underside of his cock. “No-” 

It’s turned off with a quick click of the button. Osamu sags into the bed, deep breath swallowed down and pushed back out just as fast. 

“No?” Akaashi asks him, brow lifting.

“M-maybe not _no,_ but-“ He tries to sit up a little with his feet digging into the mattress but they slide and he slinks back down when the vibration starts up again. “ _Fuck-_ ” A quick curse as he buckles forward. The metal between the cuffs and straps clink as his arms pull and his shoulders roll. 

Akaashi watches close. There’s a sort of thrill to toeing this line. Waiting for the moment Osamu’s spine curves and his stomach tightens and his knees twitch to pull his hand back an inch and leave him huffing through the buzzing weariness that follows.

“C’mon,” Voice, a throaty rumble, it tickles at the back of Akaashi’s neck. 

“You can open them.”

Eyes cutting up, blown out and consuming, it’s heavy enough that Akaashi nearly gives in right there.

“This’s mean.”

_Nearly._

Until Osamu speaks and strikes the defiance and desire all over again.

“I’m being mean?” His voice stays light, too light, derisive almost while flicking his hand to the side and digging the thrumming end of the vibrator into one of his thighs. “Really?”

“Wait, hold on-” As if it worked the first time. “Not mean-”

When his hand flips back, he starts low but trails the vibrator up fast toward the tip. The second it’s turned off, there’s a sigh of relief; but it’s switched back on just as fast and Osamu whines before there’s a chance to stop it.

He bought a single setting toy for this very purpose. To be able to click it on and off as fast as he’d like. A single press of a button between being able to breathe and choking around another garbled moan.

Maybe he is a little mean.

Once he doesn’t let up, once he stays with the vibe fixed firmly against the crown of his cock, Osamu spreads out like giving his muscles room to shake will get him any relief.

There’s a harsh curve to his back, one that makes his ribs jut into the stretched skin. Mesmerized, reaching up, Akaashi barely grazes over a single ridge of bone and flesh with his free hand before Osamu is foldling beneath his touch and sinking to the bed with a choked sound. The vibration stops. Akaashi pulls the toy back, and out comes an exasperated huff. 

Osamu blinks rapidly at first; then slower, harder. It’s with a heavy tongue and gravelly words that he tries to speak.

“M’sides- fuckin’ ticklish-”

Akaashi receives a scowl when he laughs- but how can he not? A grown man, strapped down, in the throes of an agonizing fervor- distressed and pouting from being _tickled-?_

“Is that really something you should have told me?”

“Dunno.” His eyes fall shut, as do his knees. “Hold off for a sec,” It’s weak and insincere. Arms straining, body curled slightly to the side, he shifts- _squirms_ \- idly rubs the clenched, well-fleshed meat of his thighs together. “Can’t think.”

“Open your legs.”

“I said hold off-”

“I said open.”

Osamu grunts in dissent and it sends Akaashi’s hand flying to smack the outside of his thigh before the sound makes it fully out his throat. The clap of his palm against sweaty skin is louder than it is stinging but it gets wide eyes back on him at least.

Surprise has gripped Osamu. His legs stay closed. Unmoving. Every muscle tensed so hard he’s nearly shaking.

“Don’t test my patience.”

“I thought yer patience was _admirable_.”

There’s still a moment where neither of them budge, but then Akaashi’s hand lifts again and Osamu’s knees spread fast.

“There- there- okay-” A fast babble as his hips jerk freely and his cock bounces without the friction of his own wriggling.

He probably feels helpless. Pitiful. 

Just not yet delirious enough for Akaashi’s taste.

A quick punch and the vibe begins its rumble in his hand again. Osamu’s gaze falls from his face to watch it come low between his legs again.

Arguably, it should be a relief when Akaashi tips it to the side and let’s it pulse against a knobby knee instead of back to his sticky head like it had been. _Arguably,_ it’s just as much torture as it is a relief as he drags the soft end down the inside of one thigh. Then the other. Muscle skitters beneath it. Wavering legs threaten to close but flinch back open every time.

“I’d consider tying down your legs too, but I think you’d enjoy that a bit too much.” He slides the toy back down, a crawling throb that pulls out heavier gasps the lower it goes. “Keep them out of my way or I’m stopping. Understood?”

With no response, Akaashi presses harder into the dip of his leg and the soft give of his groin. Osamu jolts, hips tucking in and away as he stutters,

“Yeah- yes- got it.”

“Good boy.” Osamu near whimpers- maybe it’s asking for something- or just being tickled by the praise- “Cooperation will get you everything you want.”

“Not like I ha-” He hiccups and curls forward. “Have muchofa choice,”

“Of course you do. I’m not _making_ you cooperate.”

“But if I don’t, yer implyin’ I _\- ahh-_ ” He breaks there, the rest of it kicked off into a pant and a swallowed groan when Akaashi slides the vibe just beneath his balls. Head back, his mouth opens for a louder keen. His feet slide against the sheets until they gain just enough purchase to push up against the vibration. 

“What exactly am I implying?” His wrist tilts, pressing firm and unforgiving into the soft skin there. It’s frightful how much Akaashi is coming to enjoy watching him go rigid like that. “This can all be over when you want it to be.” He finds himself leaning forward- wanting to touch- to crawl onto the bed and drape himself all over Osamu’s trembling being.

Akaashi knows he’s far too voracious to forget this happened once it’s over. It was a horrible, weak decision. He wants to string it out- all night if he could- but that doesn’t seem possible for much longer- not with the sounds coming out below him or the sheen of precum beading at the tip of his cock and dripping onto the constant quiver of his stomach.

“Whatever you want- it’s yours.” 

Teeth bared, shoulders pushing together, body taut- Akaashi knows it’s hard to remember to breathe like that. But, really, sometimes not breathing helps. Adds to the head rush. Surely, he’s feeling it by now. That floaty sort of surrender that comes while being at the mercy of someone’s hand. A conceded helplessness. The abandonment of thought in turn for only feeling. Or becoming so numb that even feeling was lost and the only thing was the constant thrum against skin and bone, full consciousness just out of reach. 

Getting there- being yanked out- brought right back up-

 _That_ is fun for everyone.

Eyeing the vein that has made itself known on the bared side of Osamu’s neck, Akaashi clicks the vibration off once more. 

The harsh arch of Osamu’s back crumples into the mattress. His hips twitch at the loss, chest lifting erratically with every heavy breath. He is so wonderfully ruddy- a blotchy sort of pinkness from knees to cheeks. It takes great control not to act on how strongly Akaashi wants to smack his skin red and get it between his teeth until Osamu lays bruised and raw beneath him.

One desire at a time. 

“So now, what is it that you want?”

“Wanna cum.”

His voice cracks somewhere in there, the croak shot off like there wasn’t a single thought behind the answer.

It could be as easy as that- if either of them wanted it to be.

But he didn’t.

Sensed neither of them did, really.

“Ah, I don’t think so.” His voice stays calm, a soothing wash over damp skin. “If that was truly it, you would’ve done so already, no? Try again for me?”

Osamu’s brow furrows further. He huffs, lost and irritated while he flounders.

“I-” His eyes open to find Akaashi for only a second before they’re darting away and he’s tucking his face toward his arm. “want you t’make me cum-”

It lifts like a question. Spoken as though he wants to hide the truth behind it.

“I believe that’s closer. One more time. We’re getting there.” Akaashi catches sight of the peek of bared teeth and leans in closer. He jiggles the vibrator, maybe from sheer desire alone, maybe from the shake of his antsy hands. “What do you really want?”

“Wanna-” That’s abandoned on something so very close to a sob when Akaashi sneaks a hand in between his thighs and cups the hot weight of his balls. “-wanna please you.”

Scorching like a twisted, cruel sort of pride, Akaashi breathes slowly and tries to keep the astounded lilt to his words at bay.

“And you think making you cum would please me?”

“ _Shit_ , I hope so.”

He’s coming to see that this man, if nothing else, is remarkably- _curiously-_ honest. It shouldn’t be so enamoring. Akaashi feels as much a captive to whatever this is as he can only imagine Osamu does.

“Surely, you’re not waiting for my approval.” He’s thankful it sounds disappointed. That’s far better than winded. “I never asked for that.”

“Please, c’mon,” The noise in between comes from the very pit of him. Guttural and desperate, it seeps into the room as he tries to fuck against the rumble of the toy. “ _Please._ ”

“I don’t believe I asked you to beg either. It’s rather unbecoming.”

Through a frustrated groan, Osamu’s hands have wrapped around the straps, strangling them with white knuckles and jerks that would surely rip through anything less sturdy. It’s times like these Akaashi remembers why he didn’t try to secure them to the headboard. It was a cheap piece of board and fabric- it would have been cracked by the strength of these arms. Arms that could easily lift him up, hold him down, shove him wherever they wanted-

A whimper yanks him back with a tingle all the way from his ears to the press of his dick against his slacks.

“Fuck, fuck, ‘Kaashi pl-”

Akaashi’s thumb rubs firm circles at the skin between his cock and balls and the rest comes out a broken, shattered mess as he trembles.

_That’s it._

_A little more._

Akaashi knew it was about control from the very first time something like this happened. He doesn’t demand it, but people give it to him nonetheless. And that feeling always settles low in his stomach. It lights him on fire from the inside.

“No one’s stopping you.”

In these short-live moments, he can shine too. A single, white flame in the dark.

“Go on then.”

But they covet him, suffocate him, and the flame is snuffed out. 

And as soon as the heat is gone, he is left all to himself.

“I want you to.”

Head forced back into the pillows, hips bucking as he comes, a ragged sound rips its way from his chest. Osamu tries to snap his knees together, but Akaashi’s hand is faster. It digs into a shaking thigh and pushes it back to the bed for greedy eyes to watch his accomplishment unfold.

His own shifting where he sits is ineffectual, lacking any relief and verging toward aching.

He’s hard- _unsurprisingly_ \- he chides, but it’s far more wound up than he intended to become.

Shameful, really, to be riled so easily.

If nothing else, it was fun while it lasted.

His fingers feel a little numb once he shuts the vibe off. It hangs in his loose grip as he stares at erratic, heaving breaths until they fade into a slow up and down, up and down, up- and Osamu’s eyes open just enough to slide over to him.

Akaashi moves to avoid having to hold his gaze. The first cuff is unclipped and the velcro rips open loud. Osamu jumps slightly with the sound but rolls his wrist and pulls his arm down.

“ _Sorry,_ ” Akaashi offers through a whisper as he steps around the bed to remove the other. They’re left sitting atop the nightstand when he walks back around toward his bathroom. “Stay put.”

“Couldn’t move even if I wanted.” Osamu slurs before he tries for a laugh.

Akaashi leaves him to step into the bright light of the bathroom.

First, hands washed

Second, no eye contact in the mirror

Third, washcloth and warm water

Coming back into his bed room, Osamu is sitting up and bending to the side in a stretch.

“I told you to stay put.”

“I did, I just-”

“Lay back down.”

“Nah,” He looks down to the towel and smiles but gives a shrug. “-you know you don’t gotta do all that-”

“Lay down.”

This time, even as reluctant as it may seem, he does. Slowly, onto his back, Osamu stretches out and keeps quiet as the washcloth smoothes over the small jump of his stomach. His chin is tucked down to watch and inhale deep as it slides over his thighs. The towel, folded up, joins the cuffs on the nightstand before Akaashi reaches out.

“Let me see your wrists.”

Looking down at the outstretched palm, Osamu remains still. “They’re fine. Didn’t hurt this time, promise.” 

“I’m glad.” His fingers flex. “Let me see.”

Akaashi takes a hold of it as it’s lifted. The pink skin is clammy as he massages it, watches the blood flare and fade beneath his hold.

With a twist of the wrist, Osamu gets Akaashi’s hand in his own and rubs a thumb along the skin of his palm. “You too.”

Like a petulant child.

“I’m not the one that needs it.”

“I don’t _need_ it either. Yers are nicer than mine anyway. Deserve it more.”

“You’ve already said that.”

“ _Mm_ , I’ll say it till you believe me then.”

Pulling lightly, he turns their hands and tips his head down to meet Akaashi’s knuckles with the press of his lips. He turns his cheek into them next. Blushing skin still hot against the unforgiving coldness of Akaashi’s hand. “I’ll tell ya what- I don’ think I ever felt this fucked when the other person still had their fuckin’ clothes on. Pretty funny when ya think about it.”

Akaashi feels him grin before he sees it. Osamu’s cheek lifts, then his entire head as he beames up with that lazy assuredness. “I’d also like to say I’d be happy to return the favor if y’let me.”

As much as Akaashi has done his best to ignore the way his cock is pressing into the confines of his slacks, it is apparently too conspicuous to go overlooked. It isn’t like he has never joined in before, or had his partners take over once they had their fill, but- “That’s not necessary.”

Did he really have any dignity left to spare?

But Osamu drops his hand. Drops his gaze. Drops his chin to focus on the tented fabric in front of him. 

“My ma taught me not to be selfish.”

“Seems you like to follow a lot of what she’s told you.”

“She’s a smart lady.” He smirks, a bit of something fond and humored behind it. “Gotta be to corral a fuckin’ demon like Tsumu- _eh,_ ‘nough about him though- I wanna so you gonna whip it out or not?”

Even as abrupt as it is- something that in most other contexts would make him flinch and sneer- Akaashi finds himself laughing. Only a soft, shoulder hunching chuckle, but a laugh nonetheless. It breaks through some of his nerves, but there’s a subtle shake to his hands as he reaches for the button of his trousers.

He fumbles- fails twice to pop it from the loop.

“Y’seriously still nervous after all that?” 

“My-” He holds onto the waistband. His eyes are low, staring somewhere, maybe nowhere, between them. “Occasionally- my confidence wavers a bit afterwards. After all, I didn’t disagree when you implied I don’t have much to spare to begin with.”

“I didn’t mean-” With a lofty sigh and all in one throw of himself, Osamu sits up, swings his legs over the side of the bed and scoots himself toward the edge of the mattress. “I get it- that shit takes a lot outta ya, huh?”

Akaashi nods despite the want to say back, _it should you too._

But that- speaking- is more difficult than thought where there are hands pushing at the hem of his shirt.

“C‘mere.”

It’s too hard not to follow that low voice. Akaashi steps forward to have slow kisses replace where Osamu’s hands had been. Akaashi tries to keep his stomach from squirming beneath them- or when Osamu’s mouth falls lower to pull the front of his pants open with his teeth.

The hands cradling Akaashi’s sides break away to take him by the wrists instead. Still nosing along the line between his hips, Osamu pulls Akaashi’s hands until they’re behind his head- settled on his neck- Osamu leaves them there. He lowers his own to pull Akaashi’s slacks and briefs down the shake of his thighs.

He shouldn’t be so on edge. He really is such a fraud.

An overheated, heavy breathing, anxious, embarrassing fraud.

A kiss is settled ever so gently below his navel. “It’s yer turn to relax now, don’tcha think?” _Curse him-_ for being so collected. Lazing around in the deep calm of his afterglow while Akaashi continues to panic his way through the acceptance of something as miniscule as a- “This ain’t near as wild as the shit you just pulled.”

He _knows_ that.

But being focused on- tended to- 

“Do y’not want me to-?”

“I do.” Fast. Fast enough it surprised even himself. “I’m-”

“Then no more apologizin’. And no more freakin’ out.” The thumbs that graze the outside of his thighs help, but not quite enough. “Stop thinkin’ for a bit.”

“If only it were that easy.”

And while he hadn’t intended that leave the depths of his whizzing thoughts, it only makes Osamu huff a laugh against his skin. 

“I’ll try my hardest.”

Taking in a breath large enough to push at his ribs, Akaashi holds it before it’s puffed out with a quiet, “ _Good._ ”

The way a shiver shoots down Osamu’s neck trembles against his fingers, but there is no time to marvel at it. It seems to startle Osamu into moving- shifting back- craning his neck- taking Akaashi’s cock in hand and guiding it to the waiting flat of his tongue.

The clack and subsequent clench of Akaashi’s teeth in anticipatory tension is painful. His lashes fall, his stomach twists- shamefully, his dick twitches with the ghost of Osamu’s breath around the flushed head. 

_No-_ there’s no shame in that. That’s what’s supposed to happen, right? It’s good to show interest, _right?_

Right.

The upward curve of Osamu’s open mouth is enough proof of that. The pleased way he hums as he closes his lips around the tip is as much convincing as Akaashi can let himself accept.

Soft, warm, pulling the weight from his frame. Wet, not just warm- hot, threading out a sigh from his chest. His hands inch up to find where the short hair at Osamu’s nape grows longer to give him something to curl into. Something to seek feeble purchase on as Osamu moves down with slow, steady intent. His movements may be slack-jawed and lazy but the constant, suckling pressure is enough to have Akaashi tangling his hold up in damp strands.

His legs would have surely given out if it weren’t for the hands that curve around to grab at the back of his thighs. Fingers dig in beneath the give of his ass, pulling at him- pulling _closer_ \- as if they weren’t as close as they could be.

He doesn’t usually care for this sort of attention. He enjoys taking people apart. He likes having a firm handle on things even if he’s facedown in the sheets instead of rocking back and forth on his heels.

Maybe it was a bit about power after all.

A semblance of having his shit together in here when everything outside his bedroom was crumbling and burning.

It becomes clear he’s allowed himself to feel too comfortable. Something about Osamu makes it too easy. The clever gentleness to his eyes- the familiar way he speaks and jests despite knowing barely anything about Akaashi at all- it’s dangerous.

Yes, there’s risk to the way Osamu croons and bobs all deep and sloppy- Things are getting messy. Akaashi’s never liked the mess. It’s too akin to desperation. He was so used to calculating every bit of these nights. Estimating just how long it would take before he could usher them out and crawl into bed with the ache of satisfaction still rooted in his bones.

But now; spine curved, clawing at a scalp, letting his pitiful sounds out- whine to whine strung together and dropping from his open mouth- the thought of a mess, or getting things over with, or being alone is the farthest thing from his mind.

He tries not to move too much. Tries to fall victim to it all and just exist in the onslaught, but there’s an urgency to the hands on him. Even more so when one leaves it’s sweaty hold on his ass to wrap the base of his cock and begin a slick, hurried rhythm of stroking and twisting.

He’s pulling in aborted little gasps. One after another. Never satisfying. Never feeling like he can actually breathe. It’s a wonder clumps of black aren’t being ripped from Osamu’s scalp as Akaashi’s hands twine and pull without relief. 

But Osamu seems okay- near content- to be used like this because he’s keeping Akaashi as close as he can, tightening the hold against his thigh, the slip and pull of his lips around the tip, the jerk of his hand.

It’s almost too much until there’s a low sound- a rumbling, gratified hum around his cock- and then it truly is too much. It tumbles all the way up his back, makes it bow forward. His hips kick and that sound comes again and he spills over the tongue still working around the head.

His whole body fights against standing in the aftermath. He wants to sink to the floor, succumb to the heaviness of the relief, lay there forever. But it’ll all drain away soon enough. This momentary pleasure is just as fleeting and fickle as anything else.

When his hands loosen their hold, Osamu slips away like honey dripping off his fingers. He melts back into the bed and, _thankfully_ , shuts his eyes to spare Akaashi the embarrassment of being perceived in such a state.

Akaashi scrunches his own, huffing through the last few jitters until everything slows. But it only lasts a second- just a moment long enough to gather himself and come back into everything.

The need to busy himself follows closely behind. He has no more time to pay the wobble of his legs any mind. He needs to work out the last bit of energy he has so sleep will come swiftly and pluck him out of his nervous fretting.

He moves toward his dresser, pulling his briefs back up and his pants off on the way. They’re folded quickly and placed atop the wood just as Osamu curses a quiet and fast,

“ _Shit_ ,”

Akaashi braces himself for the announcement of how bad of a decision that was. The incoming wave of clarity is going to be a brutal one.

It doesn’t come.

Akaashi turns in its absence to find Osamu now tucking the sheet over his crossed legs and scowling at the bright screen of his phone.

“I didn’t realize how late it is.” He offers as an unrequested explanation. “If I show up now, Tsumu’s gonna yell at me for wakin’ him up and start askin’ questions. I’m too tired to think of a good excuse-” Scratching idly at his stomach, he stretches and slides his phone back onto the nightstand. “You mind if I stay here?”

Akaashi had turned back to his drawers but stills before opening them. “That’s fine.” 

“I don’t wanna impose.”

“It’s not imposing if it’s an invitation.”

“It is if y’weren’t gonna extend the invitation in the first place.”

“Perhaps I was.” 

“Were ya?”

He knows Osamu is watching him now, but he pulls his shirt off anyway and let’s those eyes burn holes in his back. It’s folded and laid on top of his pants with a gentle roll of his shoulder.

“I hadn’t gotten that far, admittedly.”

“Where were ya?”

He sounds amused. It makes Akaashi pause to spare a small smirk down at the tshirt he pulls from the dresser.

“Somewhere between nowhere and changing my shirt.”

“And now?”

“I’m simply here I guess.” He tugs the shirt on, turning to a soft smile and something unnecessarily warm in the expression gazing back at him. _Oh_ , it’s all so very dangerous. “Would you like to stay here as well?” 

“Oh, I dunno,” His head tilts, big breath puffing out his cheeks. It’s a dramatic show that has Akaashi biting at the inside of his lip to keep from smiling too wide. The only thing he lets out is a subtle laugh through his nose as Osamu gives an exaggerated shrug. “I mean- If yer offerin’,”

“I am.”

“Then,” He falls back, limbs spread. “I shouldn’t be rude and refuse.”

Finally, with the will of a quiet sigh and the strike of returning nerves, the thought of laughing subsides.

By the time Akaashi’s made his way over, Osamu has shut his eyes and collected himself to one half of the bed. Truthfully unsure what to do with himself- what to say- not say- Akaashi slips himself under the covers and turns on his side. While he can’t help feeling like he’s being too distant all things considered- Osamu stays on his back.

Still, he doesn’t stop from speaking quiet and soft- it’s almost tentative, the way he breaches new conversations. Always leaving room for Akaashi to escape or disagree if he needed to.

“You like sleepin’ to yerself?”

Akaashi could agree- even a nod would probably be enough to stop things right there and they would stay put exactly where they were. But somewhere in the middle of that thought, his body turned in response to something he hadn’t explicitly acknowledged. He’s twisted, peering over his shoulder to meet Osamu’s tired eyes.

“I mean, it’s yer bed and all, but I wouldn’t be mad if you scooched over a bit.”

“Do I come across as a scoocher?”

Osamu’s brows knit suddenly at the dry tone those words traveled on. But then, his expression clears and crinkles into a laugh. “Y’know, yer kinda a weird one.”

It was definitely _supposed_ to be a joke; but possibly it had been a bit too true to fully be played off as one.

“I didn’t mean that bad. I like that yer weird.”

The thought that he should be a little offended crosses Akaashi’s mind. But how can he be with a smile like that? At least Osamu’s not afraid to say it like his brother apparently is-

“It’s endearin’, promise.” 

Akaashi would consider himself far from endearing. _Weird_ was definitely closer. Endearing implied he was comforting and possessed even the slightest bit of charm. He knew people assumed he was detached. Incurious. Cold. But did they stop to consider how exhaustingly wrapped up in his own tortuous, labyrinthine thoughts he was? To see that he was merely trapped within himself and couldn’t find his way out to them if he even tried? Why hadn’t they tried to reach inside if they were so concerned with gaining his consideration?

“I swear I can hear yer brain fryin’ every time I say somethin’.”

Apparently, one of them had noticed.

“Sorry-” 

“I already said, you don’t gotta apologize for nothin’. I’m not gonna force ya to come over here, but-” There’s an arm stretching out, a hand spreading over the sheets with the tip of his finger just barely brushing against Akaashi’s arm. 

“Right-” Immediately, another contrite sentiment forms on his tongue but he manages to swallow it. He shifts instead, _scooches_ instead- wiggles and turns his way over until he’s pressed against Osamu’s side and there’s an arm coming to rest along his back.

“You don’t do this much, do ya?”

“No.”

“Is it uncomfortable?” 

It doesn’t take much to know it isn’t, but it certainly feels like it shouldn’t be so easy to say so. 

“No.”

Osamu’s hand splays low on his back. His fingers tap gently, plucking away at the unease beginning to bubble below Akaashi’s skin once more.

“What did you think?”

There’s a bit of fear behind that question. The answer should be clear. Osamu’s still here. He didn’t seem like anything was wrong, hadn’t shown any sign of discomfort. But it wasn’t what either of them had been expecting and it’s still nagging at him.

The time from his mumble to Osamu’s inevitable answer squirms between them. Invisible, but growing larger and more annoying with every passing breath. It makes Akaashi regret letting the words out. He asked out of habit. Just to check in. But it was so much worse when the other person wasn’t about to leave right after their reply.

“Well,” Osamu’s chest lifts with that deep thought, it pushes out against Akaashi’s cheek. All sweaty heat and steady heartbeat. “I dunno if I’m just exhausted or if it’s ‘cause I still feel like my guts in my fuckin’ throat, but-” Osamu laughs just as much as he sighs. His hand rubs over Akaashi’s back, pushing like he wants to keep him there. Keep them together. _Surely not_. “I think I could see myself kinda likin’ you ‘Kaashi.”

That’s not what he meant.

Akaashi doesn’t say another word.

He can’t.

There’s nothing good he could possibly offer in return; so, he forces his eyes to close and tries not to panic while his mind roars.

_No,_

He wants to whisper. Tell him how stupid of a thing that was to say.

_You don’t,_

In spite of it all, his sleep is heavy and consuming. There’s no stirring even when the sun rises and the warmth beside him slides away. He only wakes to a patting on his cheek- over and over- light, but enough to make him blink back into consciousness.

“I’m goin’.” Osamu mutters it just above a whisper. The patting stops. That hand stills into a light cup of his face. Akaashi blinks a little harder. Slowly, the bleary fog of morning focuses in on Osamu’s bent form above him. Still, Akaashi squints at the brightness and the traitorous way his drowsy mind seizes up at the grin beaming back at him. “Gotta pick up my stuff and head back to Kobe, but I didn’t wanna just dip without sayin’ bye.”

Akaashi nods in lieu of trying to speak with sleep lodged up in his throat.

What else is there to say? 

There’s no asking him if he’s okay. No apologizing. No making excuses for them to forget any of it happened.

There’s that easiness again. The calm way he’s carried along every interaction without the slightest bit of effort.

When Osamu’s hand leaves his cheek, he misses it even before the last finger slips away.

It doesn’t go far. It moves to press into the sheets at his shoulder so Osamu can lean in.

He’s expecting a kiss. A final goodbye. His eyes close and his head tilts back for one. Instead, lips press to his forehead and he tries not to startle. 

There’s an intimacy behind it that is not lost to his grogginess. A peculiar way it seems to just- fit. A surprising realization that maybe this is what he should have been looking for long ago.

Pushing up, Osamu hovers over him. He’s smiling, clearly trying to encourage but not entirely force Akaashi’s hand with the way he lingers and whispers a careful,

“Can I see you again?”

But it’s not so much _can_ as it is _should_ , 

Would the wonder wear off once they truly got to know each other?

Akaashi isn’t bright or dazzling or warm. 

He shouldn’t say yes. He can convince himself neither of them have the time. Even more so, convince himself that Osamu will grow tired of him. Find someone better. Realize he never even liked him at all. Give up once he grows cold because Akaashi could never burn strong enough to keep someone comfortable.

But desperately, if Akaashi tries hard enough, he can tell himself he is steady. Dependable. Diligent. And for whatever reason, Osamu looks at him like he’s fascinating, possibly even desirable.

There’s no blinding light; but there is serenity. A gentle push and pull. Ocean waves enchanted by something. Calling out to something.

Maybe, Akaashi can only hope, it’s his turn to have someone be pulled in by _his_ gravity. Turning around him, watching him, guarding him, making the vastness of space a little less lonely.

The sun was never his alone. But maybe the moon can be. 

He nods.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on twitter ♡ [ @scuttlebuttles](https://twitter.com/scuttlebuttles?s=17)  
> 


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